


Prelude (Act I)

by yorkisms



Series: For the Sake of Revenge [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alluded-to canon gore and trauma, Anti-Murkoff Activism: origins, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, References to Depression, Road Trips, Walrider Miles Upshur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: Waylon and Miles have grown a lot living in hiding- arranged a polyamorous relationship with a woman on the run apart from them (Lisa), recovered significantly from PTSD, and found a routine in a life that's far from routine.But Miles, no thanks to the Walrider living inside him, can't focus his rage at those who hurt them, and he has to ask a question that's going to change their routine:Is it worth it to pursue Murkoff in return?





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first "act" of a 3-act series. There are some elements that link to my outlast EU, but I believe the two verses will stay separate but similar. 
> 
> My titles are often derived from songs by Sonata Arctica, with this series- the series name, "For the Sake of Revenge," is one such.

Something- well, everything- about their situation angers Miles.

It’s hard to quantify. He knows for himself what exactly it is when he curls up in bed next to Waylon and sees his sleeping lover quiver and whine, curling up into the fetal position, and he sees it when he gently brushes the power of the morphogenic engine- the Walrider- against Waylon’s mind, easing his dreams.

He feels it when his heart skips a beat- literally- as the nanites try to figure out his body, repair his blood, and kickstart his heart. They’re more machine than man, and they’re repairing him because they live in him. At first, he hadn’t thought it was possible, but when he left Mount Massive he was more internal nanobot patchwork than flesh. Now, seven months on, they’ve moved to trying to make his blood pump again without their help. He can normally exist without caring what they’re up to, but sometimes he feels a terrible effect of it, like the sound a car makes when you try to start the engine but it’s dead. 

They’ve spent so long running, Miles wishes yet they had a way to bite back. 

The walrider does what it can when it can, but responses to Waylon’s videos were mixed. Quiet. Murkoff kept it from the eyes of most. 

They always do. 

“Way?” 

Waylon stirs with a soft sound, almost like a chirp. “Hm?” 

“Gotta wake up soon. S’time to get moving.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Miles remembers when Waylon would be up before him, ready to move after a sleepless night (or the sleep of the dead, all or nothing.) He’s relieved with the improvement. 

“Sorry, babe. We’ve got to find a way to occupy the days ‘fore we get to see Lis again.”

“Could always stay in bed.” 

“Against the rules. C’mon, you need a shower.” 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yeah, I gave you a few days but you’re getting kind of stinky. C’mon.” 

Waylon’s still a little skittish when he cleans off. In this, it’s typically Miles’ job to sit with him and talk him through it by taking his mind off the splinters of a crude surgical table in his back. Lisa picked them out with tweezers one by one with care, but the emotions don’t fade. 

“Stay with me, Waylon. You were talking about when you knew you loved Lis.” 

Waylon jumps a little, then nods. The warm water is relaxing him some.

“I, uh...it was after I got top surgery. I was wearing this ratty hoodie all the time to hide myself. She took me down to the pier once I was recovered enough, tore it into strips, and lit it on fire. She gave me a cardigan that fit, and said I wasn’t allowed to look like I wanted to not be wherever I was anymore.”

Miles has respect for Lisa. He’s only met her once a month over the past few years, but from what he knows and the stories Waylon has, she’s a good woman. Double good for understanding that Waylon needs the intimacy Miles offers now.

\--

They hit the road as usual. It’s the southwest today, Utah, New Mexico, California by the end of the week. Lisa and the kids are finding them sometime then in the Sierra Nevadas for a short catch-up and reunion. Waylon can barely wait. 

“Miles?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’ve been quiet.” Waylon pulls his legs up to his chest in the passenger seat. “You okay?” 

“Just thinking.” 

“Don’t do that, you’ll give me a headache,” Waylon jokes softly, before clearing his throat. “What about?” 

“Starts with M, rhymes with jerkoff,” Miles says, waving his hand casually, as if it’s nothing. 

“Do you think we have a tail or anything?” Waylon asks nervously, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“No, god no. I just wish…” 

“Wish what?” 

“That our footage had meant something. That they’d face consequences for once in their rotten lives.” 

“I know. But I don’t think there’s anything we can do. We’re just two people, Miles, they’ve already hired contract killers to take me out if I appear again. Telling Lisa to pretend to be over me was one thing, and I think it’s the only reason she’s still safe. And what about you? What if they get their hands on the Walrider?” 

“We can’t make them pay, Way? Not at all?” 

“We can make anyone who comes after us pay. That’s all we can do anymore.”

“We went into this to help people.” 

“And look where that got us,” Waylon murmurs nervously, looking at Miles’ hands on the wheel. “Your hands. My leg. The...everything. You’re barely even alive again.” 

“That’s exactly why we should be getting  _ mad,  _ Way! Getting  _ even!  _ They should pay for what happened to us, and pay so much no one has to see that again!” 

“I just don’t know, Miles,” Waylon practically squeaks, and Miles realizes his companion is pressing against the car door, scared, and that the swarm has manifested around him. 

Miles falls silent and breathes deeply, looking at the Colorado mountainscape in front of him. 

Focus on the road. Focus on breathing. He’s supposed to take care of Waylon, he promised Lis, and he’s failing. 

“You’re right. I’m thinking too hard.” 

Miles pulls over at an overlook, and gestures for Waylon to get out. “Come on, Way. Good a spot to stretch your bad leg as any, right?”

“Hm?” 

“You forgot those PT stretches we found on the internet this morning.”

Waylon accepts Miles’ help getting out of the car. “Oh. Did I?” 

“Yeah, you did. Do you need your cane?” 

“Not right now.” 

Miles sits on the railing keeping them from a painful tumble into the Colorado wilderness. Normally Waylon would ask him to be careful- Miles pre-emptively reminds him about the colony of nanobots dedicated to keeping him alive. 

The stretches are easy, and they both simply appreciate the view. The sun breaks through the clouds. Miles watches out of the corner of his eye as Waylon massages his calf, stretching out the damaged muscles. 

“Hey Miles?” 

“Hm?” 

“I’m sorry I-” 

“Unless it’s ‘sorry I forgot my stretches’ I don’t wanna hear it, Way. Today being crap was my fault.” 

“Don’t write off the rest of the day, Miles. You, uh...you know what we can find now that we’re back in the southwest?”

“What’s that?” 

“In-N-Out Burger,” Waylon says with a small smile, and Miles can’t help himself- he laughs hard for the first time in a long while.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Miles think about what they want to do. Waylon hears things. Miles takes it all out on a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This filled me with some kind of emotion, oh boy.

They started going to the burger joint when they visited Waylon’s old haunts in the bay area. It’s where they first went to ground, because it was big and he knew his way around. Miles had never spent more than a few days west of the Mississippi, so Waylon insisted he had to try some when they ducked in to a busy location. 

“Hi, yeah, can I get two double-doubles, animal fries, and a root beer float?” 

Miles thought he understood half of those words in theory. 

Waylon had handed over cash for their food, and brought Miles what looked like a double-thick burger. 

“For you.” 

Miles examined the food. It didn’t look half bad, actually, and Waylon was nice enough to share. 

“It’s not bad,” he said, with his mouth full. “You eat this stuff?”

“All the time in college. That and Korean barbecue from this place I think shut down a while ago.” 

“I’ll give you a pass for taste.”

They’ve made a habit of giving the franchise a visit whenever they can. They started making deals about where’s cheap to eat and regional, but In-N-Out was the first. 

“Hey, Miles,” Waylon says as they wait in line in the drive-through of the nearest location. “Have you ever tried a Flying Dutchman?” 

There’s something about the question Miles can’t put his finger on. “What the hell is that, some kind of sex move?”

Waylon grins. “You should try one.” 

Miles cautiously orders a ‘flying dutchman’ at the window, even though he suspects he’s being punked. 

As they get back on the highway, Miles holds out a hand for some of his food, and Waylon, with a laugh bubbling up in his tone- that’s it, the thing about his voice Miles couldn’t place, the desire to laugh- hands Miles two patties with cheese in between, wrapped like a normal burger.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me, Park. Were you like this in college? Did you do this to Lisa?” 

“No, but we did it to her best friend’s straight friend.” 

“You’re treating me like a straight now? I’m insulted.” 

“No, I’m treating you like an east coaster, that’s different.” 

Miles can’t stay mad, though, not when Waylon Park who cowered from him not too long ago is brave enough to play a joke on him. 

\--

That night at the hotel, Miles normally would stay awake. But something about the day- maybe the factories inside him- put him right to sleep. Waylon stays awake, laying next to Miles, watching him sleep with the lights low and something on the tv to break the silence. 

Waylon knew he was different when he was young. It didn’t take a great revelation for him to know. When his parents had left the picture and he had gone to college, transitioned, and married Lisa, he had thought it was over. He’d never stop being bi, or trans, but it was relegated to friendly conversation with his wife about which celebrities they found the most attractive. 

Waylon wonders how Lisa, who’s always been his other half, knew from the beginning that he’d love Miles Upshur too, just as much. 

Maybe it’s just that she’s always known him before he knows himself. That’s what he loves about her- he can trust her absolutely. 

Looking at Miles asleep, calm, he thinks of how when he told her to run for her life and play the part of a wife who hated her former husband with all her heart so hopefully, hopefully, Murkoff would believe them separated, she agreed. 

_ I love you, Way. Find love wherever you can. Find someone who loves you just like I do. It’s okay. It doesn’t mean you love us less. _

And he doesn’t- there’s still nothing in the world he wouldn’t give for the safety of Lisa and their children. But Miles is near as important. 

If only they had met under better circumstances.

Waylon lets out a breath and closes his eyes. 

Ink blots and distorted imagery cross behind his eyelids for what feels like forever. The morphogenic engine. 

_ I’m not there. I’m not there. I’m not there. _

He can feel Miles curled up next to him. He focuses on that instead. 

When he wakes up in the early hours of the morning, his body frozen, he looks over at Miles Upshur. 

The ex-journalist next to him has stolen the sheets. 

Damn it. 

\-- 

Sleep paralysis isn’t the worst of their experiences, but it’s one Waylon hates the most, especially when he  _ really _ wants to steal the sheets back. 

It’s not a vision today, not quite, but it’s a sound. Waylon swears to himself in his head, voice choked in his throat. 

The scratchy melodies surround him, and he hates every minute of it, thought he was getting better, doesn’t want to think about this. 

> _ When I was a boy my mother often said to me,  _
> 
> _ Get married, son, and see how happy you will be. _

It’s not real. 

So why does it scare him so much?

His choked sounds of distress are what finally wake Miles, whose eyes are black as night, taken over by the Walrider. Black smoke surrounds them, and Waylon feels his muscles return to his control. 

“Way?” Miles rasps, not all there but for his concern. 

Waylon stays leaned on Miles and allows himself to cry quietly. 

\--

Everything makes Miles feel angrier and angrier. 

Once Waylon gets himself to the shower on his own, Miles steps outside, and walks some five minutes into the woods. 

He doesn’t have  _ much _ practice with the Walrider, but he has  _ some _ . It’s like developing a new limb- part of him he has to learn to control. And he has learned- somewhat. 

He’s learned enough for this. 

With one swat with the swarm’s massive hands, he smashes a conifer of at least a hundred years so hard splinters fly. He looks at the scar tissue of his lost fingers.

And he hits the tree, again, and again, and again, until the tree teeters dangerously, chewed up like it’s been put through a wood chipper wrong. 

It doesn’t make him feel any less angry. Just empty. Just tired.

With torso heaving and hair messed he returns to their room. 

“Do you think you can drive today?”

“I, I can try.” 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles and Waylon see Lisa, and make an important decision. But before they get started, Miles starts them on a new mission: to warn two of his close friends and colleagues.

“Um, Miles?” 

Miles grunts from the passenger seat. 

“Has...has that car been following us for an hour or so?” 

Miles lets out a grunt as he sits up. “Ugh. They really have to do this today?” 

“There’s one every few months…” 

“Take them somewhere secluded,” Miles says, even though Waylon already knows. “And don’t watch, Way, just don’t.” 

Waylon doesn’t. He’s seen what the swarm does to people. And the frustration with Murkoff rolling off Miles in waves means the mess must be much, much worse than usual. 

\--

They don’t make it more than five miles from the scene of the crime before Waylon pulls over, hands shaking. 

“Way, are you ok?” 

Waylon looks at Miles with a mix of fear and indecision in his eyes, and then tugs Miles in for a kiss. 

“Any reason?” Miles murmurs. “Not that I’m objecting.” 

“Because I keep feeling like we’re going to die for real tomorrow, and I don’t want that to happen without-- without letting you know I love you.” 

“I love you too, Waylon,” Miles says, and the words make them both feel a little lighter. They hold each other close like this for some time before the sun starts to sink and they need to get a move-on anyhow. 

\--

Waylon's grateful that not only did Miles steal him a laptop as a present, the owners somehow hadn’t activated any programming to brick it remotely for many months. 

He’s always been better with technology than people, it’s how he got to programming, and it shows more now. It’s just for emergencies mostly, but sometimes he uses it to poke around behind Murkoff’s firewalls. Find something interesting. Maybe he’ll find something worth deleting someday. Or something worth reading. 

“Stop looking at that before they trace you, Way.” 

“They’re not tracing me,” Waylon mutters. “I have proxies.”

“Go to sleep, Waylon, it’s three am.” 

“You sound like Lisa.” 

“Yeah, I sure fuckin hope so.”

Waylon reluctantly shuts down his hacktivist programs and lays down with Miles. 

“Finally.” 

“One of us has to do work.” 

“We don’t have work.” 

“And?” 

\--

“Do you want to?”

“Hm?” 

“Fight back? If we could?” 

“Of course I do. It’s- I already tried. Look what that got us. I just, I can’t- I can’t  _ feel- _ .” 

“I don’t think we have any better choices, Way. I can help you.” 

“Let me see Lisa first. Let me talk to her. I- I don’t know. It’s so hard to feel angry. It’s so hard to feel anything but tired.” 

“Okay, Way. Okay.” 

Lisa slips into their hotel room late at night when they just-so-happen to be in the same place at the same time- as usual. 

Miles curls up in an armchair the room has and lets her be the one to lie on the bed with her husband for once. 

“Where are the twins?” Waylon murmurs, concerned. 

“Sleeping, baby. They tired themselves out. Couldn’t tell them they wouldn’t see you today if they didn’t.”

Waylon looks disappointed. “They’re okay?” 

“They miss you. They’re doing good with homeschooling, though. Jasper is like you, he’s so good with machines, Way. Jun has such a wonderful imagination, and he’s using the tablet to learn some Korean. He was gonna show off to you the next time we got to meet.” 

Tears well in Waylon’s eyes. “Tell them I love them.” 

“I do that every day, sweetie _. _ ” 

Lisa rests her forehead against Waylon’s. “Something on your mind, love?” 

Waylon squeezes her hands. “Yeah.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Waylon makes eye contact for a moment with Miles, who nods. 

“Yeah. We should.” 

\-- 

“It’s better than just running,” Lisa muses, squeezing Waylon’s hands as she sits across from him on the bed. 

“But I don’t know if they’ll still come for you. I don’t know if you and the twins will be okay.” 

“You warned us,” Lisa assures him. “Make your decision, baby, we’ll be with you. We love you so much.” 

Waylon pauses, tugging his hands out of Lisa’s so he can wring them nervously. “I- I want to, but-”

“Then do it, love. You have backup. You have us.”

Waylon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Murkoff is going down. We’re doing this.” 

Lisa kisses him on the forehead. “They certainly are.”

\--

“Arizona today,” Waylon says, tapping away on their stolen laptop as Miles drives. “We going anywhere?” 

“Flagstaff,” Miles says. “I’m going to check on some old friends before we potentially let Murkoff know I’m alive. Let them know to watch their backs.” 

“Won’t that be dangerous in and of itself?” 

“Maybe, but it’s better than just letting them be sitting ducks.” 

“So who’re these friends of yours, anyway? I thought you didn’t really talk to anyone except your neighbor in DC.”

“College buddies. We’d catch up every so often before I went missing.” 

“What’re they like?” 

“They got married before we finished college. Long time coming, childhood sorta-sweethearts, moved apart and met again in undergrad. Real mushy affair. Still, I was happy for ‘em, you know? I need them to be safe.” 

“Are they reporters too? What are their names?” 

“Blake and Lynn Langermann.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of prelude! 
> 
> The origins of this continuity were as one cohesive fic, but the acts felt better standing as a series, especially since the writing style shift between acts 1 and 2 is...possibly too much for a full chapterfic. Act 2, _Reckoning Day,_ will be appearing on this series' Wednesday update, so keep an eye out. I hope that conclusion left you excited for what's to come, because there is much, much more in store for our heroes and their allies.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Once act I is finished posting, expect act II sooner rather than later and act III sometime after that.~~
> 
> If you want to let me know you liked any of the series, leave kudos, comments, and bookmarks, and if you want to know how to support my writing, visit me on tumblr: [maggie-wittington.](http://maggie-wittington.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
